Romancing Lady Stone (A School of Gallantry Novella) (11 page)

His smooth, heated skin now felt moist against her fingertips as he worked their bodies into a more frenzied state.

He said something in Russian.

She didn’t need to understand to know he wanted more.

She pushed up into him, desperately wanting to bring herself closer to what she had wanted all along: release. Release from her entire life. In that moment, she wasn’t Lady Stone anymore. She wasn’t what society expected her to be. She was Cecilia. A woman who had always secretly and ardently yearned to touch
real
passion. The sort of passion a titled lady could never give into without destroying her name.

She feverishly ran her hands up and down the length of Konstantin’s firm, muscled back, and grabbed for his buttocks, squeezing them.

A muffled groan escaped both their mouths.

He stilled. In between ragged breaths, he rasped against her cheek, “What is your birth name? You never told me.”

“Cecilia,” she barely managed.

He rolled his hips, forcing his cock deeper. “Cecilia,” he breathed in between steady strokes. “By allowing this, you are damning me to needing you. You do realize that, yes?”

His hand slid down between them, making her gasp. He fingered her in between thrusts, his hand never stopping as he rubbed and rubbed her nub faster.

Her throat tightened as her body reached a heart-pounding peak that unexpectedly handed itself over to climax.

It came too soon.

She cried out and her body trembled in an explosive release that penetrated more than her body. It penetrated her soul.

His moist, hot mouth descended onto hers again, muffling her cry as his hand jumped out from between them. Gripping her waist tightly, he pulled her against himself one last time until he gasped against her mouth and tensed. He pulled out of her wetness and seething out a savage breath against the curve of her throat which he had buried himself into, she could feel him jerking and jerking his hand faster against his cock in the darkness.

He groaned into her. She felt that groan graze every inch of her as his seed spilled all over her inner thighs. He groaned again and she could feel him spilling more. He seethed out another breath and smeared the wet warmth of his seed against her skin with the length of his cock.

He collapsed against her and buried his head once again into the curve of her throat. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed her tightly against himself as if he didn’t intend to ever let go. “You are so beautiful.”

She tightened her own hold on him. How was it a complete stranger had shown her more passion and more desire than her own husband had in the fourteen years she had been married?

Konstantin lifted his head. “Cecilia,” he whispered hoarsely, his chest heaving.

“Yes?” she whispered back.

A breath escaped him. He kissed her forehead softly and brought her closer, tucking her against that solid chest. “Words elude me.”

She clung to him, the intake of his breath and her own pulse drumming in unison beneath her fingers. “They elude me, too.”

He rolled her with him, so he lay on his back and settled against the pillow, adjusting them so they could better fit on the narrow bed. “Are you comfortable?” he murmured into her hair.

“Yes, Mr. Levin, I am,” she murmured back.

He gently tapped her bare skin. “No more Mr. Levin. You and I are lovers. That means you are Cecilia and I am Konstantin. Do you understand?”

None of this was real. How could it be? They had just met. “Yes. I understand.”

Whatever was happening between them, whatever she had allowed for, didn’t feel wrong. It felt beautiful.
He
felt beautiful. She nestled her cheek against his chest, refusing to think about anything but him. This was
her
time. Her girls were nowhere in sight and the
ton
were far, far away in another country well across an ocean and could not judge her. This was between her and what she wanted as a woman.

This was better than Paris.

Late morning

Konstantin opened his eyes and paused. The back of Cecilia’s tousled, dark head was tucked below his chin and her smooth, naked warmth was spread across the length of his own nakedness. What had happened between them was real.

His throat tightened. Lifting his head, he glanced down at her. She continued to sleep, her breath coming in soft, even takes. Her full lips were parted and her pale face looked so beautiful and at peace. The linens were pulled around their entangled bodies.

It was the first time he’d ever slept in the arms of a woman for a full night.

She felt like home.

He slowly dragged the linens away from her body and gently folded it down over her hip so he could look at her in a way he hadn’t been able to at night.

Full, white breasts greeted him. Visible marks puckered her pale stomach from the stretching of each child she had carried. It didn’t make her any less beautiful. It made her everything she was. He slid his hand down that stomach, reveling in her warmth and softness. Tightening his jaw, he slid his fingers down to the short, curling black hairs between her thighs.

She startled and grabbed his hand hard, her chest rising and falling. “You scared me.”

“Forgive me.” He leaned toward her lips and kissed them, shoving aside the linens. “Did you sleep well,
dorogaya moya
?” He slid his hand in between her thighs. Pushing his finger deep into her, his cock hardened. Using her wetness, he slowly flicked his finger upward toward that nub. “I want you again.”

Her lips parted as she watched his hand in between escalating breaths. She grabbed his thigh hard and held him in place against her backside.

He flicked her faster and ground his erection into her again and again until she was gasping. He withdrew his finger from her wetness and sat up, leaning against the headboard behind them. Dragging her up and onto his lap, so she faced him, he sat her up. “If only every morning were as bright as this one,” he murmured up at her. “How are you, beautiful?”

She smiled shyly. “I am still in disbelief.”

“You are not the only one.” He wrapped her legs around his naked waist and cupped her face with both hands, letting her dark brown hair cascade down over her bare shoulders and onto her breasts.

He held her gaze, wanting to believe that the reason they were doing this was because they not only wanted each other but needed each other.

She wordlessly lowered herself onto his cock and slid down onto his length.

He bit back a shudder and tightened his hold on her beautiful face, letting her take over. He traced the tip of his tongue across the curve of her chin, dragging it to her lips.

She slipped her hands onto his shoulders and slowly rode him.

He rolled up and into her, digging his fingers into her thick hair. He let his one hand trail down to her breasts and held up one. Lowering his head, he flicked his tongue over its slope and in toward the nipple until it hardened.

She threw back her head, arching toward him and rode him steadily faster. Tightening her long legs around him, she ground down again and again and again, making it harder for him to breathe through the stirring, building sensations. Pleasure rippled through his core and his body and his cock, tensing all of his muscles.

Pushing away her hair, he grabbed the back of her neck and buried his head into the soft curve of her throat, determined to leave his mark on her body. He sucked on the skin of her throat hard, pulling the skin in past his teeth.

She gasped. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she rode him.

Holding her waist, he gritted his teeth and jerked her down harder, wanting to go as deep as her womb would allow.

She cried out and rocked against him, her body quaking.

He couldn’t hold it, either. He spilled into her wetness.

Konstantin choked and pulled out. Still shuddering, he finished spilling his seed all over her stomach, his cock pulsing and his core tightening.

He yelled out.

In between ragged breaths, Konstantin wrapped his arms around her. He had to learn how to better control himself around her. Burying himself in the softness of her skin, he confessed in complete exasperation, “I spilled some of my seed into you.”

Her head popped up from his chest, her hair wildly crossing the side of her face. “How much is some?” she demanded.

A nervous laugh escaped him. “Not enough to make me panic. We should be fine.”

She adjusted the linens over herself and shook her head. “This is so unlike anything I have ever done with my life. I am usually very…
sensible
. I pride myself for my being respectable. I
am
respectable.”

He smiled and tilted his head so as to better see her face, trying to decipher if she was pleased with the statement or not. “Do you have any regrets?”

A breath escaped her lips. “In truth, I have less regrets about this than I did when I married my husband.”

His brows went up. “Was I that good? Or was I that bad?”

A laugh escaped her. “I only knew my husband for a week before I married him by special license.”

He let out a low whistle. “And I thought we waltzed past introductions quickly.”

She winced. “I was young and didn’t want to marry my cousin who was practically banging on my door. Everyone expected me to marry him. But I wanted a respectable man. One who could provide me and my parents with the financial lifestyle we never had separate from the Gunther family. Given my husband’s popularity, when he asked me to marry him by special license shortly after we met, I panicked and gave in. I knew nothing about men.” She huffed out a breath. “I still don’t.”

He smirked. “Why do I feel this conversation has returned to me?”

She shoved at him playfully.

He nudged her playfully back. “Are you hungry?”

“Beyond famished.”

“Good. I will get dressed.” He pointed at her. “I ask that you stay in bed. I doubt your clothes are dry anyway.” He tipped himself out of bed, landing on the floor and paused, realizing he’d never shared a morning meal with a woman after a night of sex. Knowing it, he turned, leaned down and quickly kissed her on the lips. For good measure. “I will be back.” He dressed and in between the final straightening of his appearance and the buttoning of his waistcoat, he glanced toward her, sensing she was watching him.

Those dark sultry eyes met his. She gushed into a smile.

It was a smile he had waited his whole life to see. It was a smile that promised him anything he wanted despite who he was. “I blame you for this,” he said, pointing at her. “You seduced me.”

She quirked a brow. “I did no such thing.”

“So says the lady who insisted I climb into her bed.” He smirked and grabbing up his pocket watch, tossed it to her, letting it land on the bed beside her bare foot. “Keep it safe whilst I am gone. God forbid it fall behind another chair.”

She laughed, sat up and dragged it toward herself.

“Should I try to get your garter back from our neighbor?” he added.

She rolled her eyes. “Let him keep it. Heaven knows where it has been.”

“Lucky bastard. How is it he gets a garter and I do not? I want one.”

She tsked. “Will you feed me already?”

His mouth quirked.

A half hour later, he returned to the room with a massive wooden bowl filled to the rim with stew and two wooden spoons shoved into it. He closed the door after himself and locked the door. Turning back to her, he announced, “They did not have much.”

“You make it sound like a terrible thing,” she chided. “As hungry as I am, I will eat anything.”

He paused.

She lay on her stomach, leisurely naked, opening and closing the silver casing to his watch with slim fingers. She smiled, brushing away long, unbound hair from the side of her face and adjusted the linens over her waist.

It was like walking in on a woman he had been married to for years.

His chest tightened. This would never last. How could it? She was an aristocrat with four children and he was a reformed criminal. He shoved the thought aside, refusing to think about it.

He strode toward her and sat on the edge of the bed next to her, setting the bowl beside her. “Tell me what you think.” He prayed the food was half-decent.

She sat up, dragging the linens to cover her breasts. Dipping the wooden spoon into the stew, she leaned over and daintily scooped it up toward herself. Her lips closed around a mouthful before sliding the spoon back out. A muffled groan escaped her as she half-closed her eyes. “’Tis divine,” she murmured. She hastily scooped up another heaping spoon. And another. And another.